


Heaven beside you, Hell within

by Eara



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, MFMM Year of Tropes, Someone is a big overthinker of stuff, rumors and gossip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 18:49:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12152670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eara/pseuds/Eara
Summary: “Penny for your thoughts?”She hopes he doesn't notice her sharp intake of breath. She looks away.I'm thinking about Clara Hamilton. About how she said that rumor has it that you have proposed.-For the September trope challenge "Don't believe the rumours".





	Heaven beside you, Hell within

**Author's Note:**

> The title is shamelessly borrowed from the amazing song _Heaven beside you_ by Alice in Chains.  
>  If I were you I'd really check it out!

She watches him from the corner of her eyes, almost absentmindedly.

The soiree has been a quite successful- albeit exhausting- affair, and she is glad that he has agreed to spend the night at Wardlow, even if originally they were meant to go at his place. 

She had just needed the stability of her own home, she tells herself, sitting in front of the mirror. The perfect calmness that comes from being surrounded by your own things. 

She doesn't like his house. It just seems so much less than what he deserves. And she can tell he doesn't love it either. She likes to think that he loves it here, with her. 

He has taken off his shoes and is sitting on his side of the bed, the closest to the door. She wonders what that means. She wonders if it does mean anything. 

She sighs, taking off her earrings. Her head hurts a bit. Probably too much champagne. 

She sighs again. Pouring some of her scented oil on the cloth she uses to remove her make-up, she notices he has stood up, and is putting on the bottoms of his pajamas. 

Her lips are bare, naked, free of their armor. He washes the pomade off his hair. Curls fall on his face. His eyes meet hers in the mirror, soft. 

“Penny for your thoughts?”

She hopes he doesn't notice her sharp intake of breath. She looks away.

_I'm thinking about Clara Hamilton. About how she said that rumor has it that you have proposed._

She shakes her head slightly, “Nothing much,” she can't bring herself to remove the makeup off her eyes. 

_I'm thinking of Eliza Crawley. About how she replied, laughing, that I have probably refused._

She decides to take off her hair comb. “Just the soiree”. 

“Hm, your Aunt was pleased.” his voice is playful,  
“Though I have never heard that much stupid gossip in one evening. Amazing what people can come up with.”

She can't understand why she feels like crying. She never feels like crying. _He’s not even talking about that._

But what if he is. What if he thinks that the mere idea of the possibility of proposing to her is absurd. _“Not the marrying kind”._

She starts brushing her hair, eyes still painted, half her armor still in place. 

He dries off, some drops of water falling on his bare torso while he walks back to the bed. 

Her hair is too smooth to pretend there's a point in brushing it, but he doesn't notice and sits down with a book. 

She thinks she has never felt more raw open. She has, but his presence somehow makes her forget all those other times. 

She thinks she has never been so foolish. The brush hits the table with a little too much force. 

He looks up from the book. 

“Is everything alright?”

His voice is calm, but concerned. If she looked at him, his eyes would be a stormy blue. 

_No it's not. But how could I ever tell you._

“Yes, yes. Sorry. Just tired.”

He is a detective, he knows her. He knows she just lied. But there are some lies they don't call each other on. 

He nods a little, shoots a worried look at her, but she doesn't catch it. 

She is terrible at this. But it's not easy to learn to bare yourself to another person. Even if it's just him. _Because it's him._ Her traitorous thoughts suggest. 

She suddenly wants to see Mac, to hear her say, in her sharp and wise voice, that she can survive this too. 

(Deep down she knows she won't. Wouldn’t want to.) 

He notices she has stopped any movement and is just looking herself in the eyes. 

She knows he would do everything it takes to make her happy. _A mixture of sense of duty and probably guilt about his own failed marriage_ , she tells herself, ruthlessly, unfairly. 

But there are some things that just can't be asked. She has already asked a lot. Much more than with any other man. _“Come after me”_

God, it seems she was testing him to see when he would break. _“There’s a whole world out there.”_

He hasn't yet. But he might, still. 

She wants to laugh at her own fickleness. ‘I am not the marrying kind.’ That's what she’d always said. 

_Who could ever match me._ She had thought, carelessly. 

_Who could ever be strong enough to embrace everything I am._ She had seen so much, lived so much, lost so much. She was complicated in ways that were incomprehensible even to herself.

_Who would ever want to._

‘Too much ballast for lift-off’. Her words to Compton still ring in her ears, merciless. 

She prides herself in living a free life. It’s hard to live freely though, when your own words are imprisoning you. When all you ever said and done cages you into something that no longer fits.

When she finally removes her remaining makeup he is already asleep, his back turned to her.

Slipping under the covers, she shivers and, for the first time in her life, a thought, unbound, eats her heart. 

_He could._

\---

When she wakes up, late in the morning, his side of the bed is already cold. 

“I'm yours Jack.” She whispers in his pillow, feeling foolish and desperate, but she smiles. 

_Please come after me. Just one last time._

Inhaling his scent, a relieved sob escapes her lips. 

She knows he will.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this happened. I was trying to write something spectacularly angsty but apparently I don't really have it in me. This...thing...came out instead. Oh well.  
> I'm working without a beta so I'm sorry for any mistakes, they are all my fault!  
> Anyway, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
